Contents of Epilogue
First poem from the first volume "Album One, Frame Final".
Mountains over mountains of seas galore,
Oceans within lakes of trees and dust,
In our putrescent flesh they bid a loser's sore
Conclave evicted in the Sun's rust.
But we...
...let the green light wash the seeping soil of filth
As they commend the floating lantern of amaranth,
Of our century-old blood-tainted creed of golden hilt
And lime-like so crimson-crying blade which can't...
...cannot and won't...
...cut deep through the graves of the ever-riddling forefathers,
Purple fog and blanket of night's shrouded severing fingers
Which raises about the unwillingly infinite question of others:
"Where and how did we have their scent that still lingers?"
...do what they want.
What do they want?
We wait to see,
Or see to wait?